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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29168190">diamonds to behold</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>steady now, breathe (febuwhump 2021) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Abused Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Abused Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Abused Deceit | Janus Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Needs a Hug, Author Projecting onto Deceit | Janus Sanders, Child Abuse, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Needs a Hug, Deceit | Janus Sanders Needs a Hug, Gen, Harm to Children, Hurt Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Hurt Deceit | Janus Sanders, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:33:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,862</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29168190</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><span class="u">day two: "i can't take this anymore"</span> </p>
<p>The word of a child means nothing to an adult. Conversely, the word of an adult means absolutely nothing to Virgil. </p>
<p>He's exhausted, and his teachers all seem to read this as sullen. He spent half of last night hearing Janus get beaten to tears and the other half awake in silence, pensive, pondering. Searching for a solution that'll work.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anxiety | Virgil &amp; Creativity | Roman &amp; Logic | Logan &amp; Morality | Patton, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Deceit | Janus Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Morality | Patton Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders &amp; Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders &amp; Logic | Logan Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>steady now, breathe (febuwhump 2021) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139798</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>diamonds to behold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>day two!! prompt: "i can't take this anymore" </p>
<p>title from axwell ingrosso's "sun is shining," because i don't know of many songs that capture hope the way that one does </p>
<p>this fic will be a three-parter, with the remaining two chapters also being a febuwhump prompt fills!! so rest assured, you won't be waiting long ;) </p>
<p>heed those tags, folks</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The crushing reality is this: </p>
<p>No one is going to save him. </p>
<p>Virgil is fourteen, and that means he is: reckless, unreliable, rebellious, probably a dirty liar. He needs to be reined in. He's not someone to trust. </p>
<p>The word of a child means nothing to an adult. Conversely, the word of an adult means absolutely nothing to Virgil. </p>
<p>He's exhausted, and his teachers all seem to read this as sullen. He spent half of last night hearing Janus get beaten to tears and the other half awake in silence, pensive, pondering. Searching for a solution that'll work. When he was ten and Janus was twelve, Virgil said some things he shouldn't have and the school counselor called CPS, which ended up... badly. A social worker came to their house, accused Virgil of telling stories, and made their parents sign some dumb paper. The social worker left. Their mother tore the paper up and screamed at them both. Their father grabbed Janus by the arm and pulled out his belt. </p>
<p>(Janus swore up and down that he was fine, it wasn't Virgil's fault. But then Janus has always been a liar.) </p>
<p>Anyway. CPS has been out of the question ever since. By now Virgil's accustomed to the knowledge that he'll have to save his brother himself; it hurt at first, but it also made sense. </p>
<p>Last night Virgil composed his eleventh plan. Six so far have proven too risky or too difficult or otherwise unrealistic upon further scrutiny, and four have been stashed away for an unknown someday, dependent on circumstances very different from these. </p>
<p>But Virgil has a good feeling about this one. </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Roman is also fourteen. Roman's parents are better than Virgil's but not by much. Roman, however, is not nearly so down-to-earth as Virgil is, and he seems determined to come up with only the most ridiculous— </p>
<p>Plans? They're not plans. To call Roman's ideas "plans" would be an insult to Virgil's actual plans. They are madcap rescue fantasies at best. </p>
<p>Lunchtime, as always, finds Virgil and Roman alone at a table in the shady corner of the courtyard. No one likes the shady corner because it's cold, but it gives the two of them an excuse for long sleeves, so Virgil and Roman like it fine. </p>
<p>"What if," Roman starts, "we enter a—" </p>
<p>"Nope," says Virgil, hoping he sounds less bitter and more exhausted. He doesn't want to hurt Roman's feelings, he is just far too tired for this. "I wrote you an entire essay over text last month debunking the lottery ticket idea, we're not doing that again." </p>
<p>"Not a lottery! Just a... a contest. An art contest, you're good at art!" He leans forward, eyes sparkling. "You'll enter art contests with big prizes and I'll enter singing competitions, too, and then we'll win and we'll get lots of money, and all the people at Hollywood and Juilliard and—what's the art school again?" </p>
<p>"Yale," Virgil mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Roman, please—" </p>
<p>"And Yale, all those people, they'll see our work—we'll be on TV, you see, because that's what they do when 14-year-olds win national contests with big prizes—and they'll give us scholarships and I'll be in a movie!" </p>
<p>Virgil sighs. </p>
<p>Roman seems especially excitable today. And normally Virgil handles him just fine—normally Virgil likes it. Roman's blind hope is a welcome change from the rest of Virgil's life. </p>
<p>Today, though, he's just— </p>
<p>He's just tired. </p>
<p>"Sorry, Ro," Virgil says, quirking a smile. "We crossed 'being discovered' off the list a year ago." </p>
<p>Roman pouts. "Well, I'm putting it back on the list," he says. </p>
<p>"Nope. Not allowed. My list, my rules." </p>
<p>"Ugh, you're no fun." </p>
<p>"Cry about it then." </p>
<p>"I will! And I'll make my own list, and then I'll cry on that, too!" </p>
<p>Which makes no sense, but sense-making has never really been Roman's main concern. Virgil sighs again and turns his eyes back to his notebook. </p>
<p>It's an old, tattered thing, worn and well-loved, carried nearly everywhere for the last two years of Virgil's life. Sometimes he feels like the notebook <em> is </em> his life—or at the very least contains it—which might sound melodramatic to anyone but Roman, but its pages do contain a lot. Escape plans, of course, but more than that—costume ideas for Janus, stupid things Roman says that make him smile, gel pen hearts from Patton in the margins, lists of birthdays and favorite ice cream flavors. </p>
<p>Speaking of birthdays, actually. </p>
<p>"Patton will be fifteen in one week," says Virgil, and Roman stares. </p>
<p>"Fifteen?" he echoes. "Already? Impossible." </p>
<p>Virgil rolls his eyes. "You and Remus'll be fifteen in two months," he points out, and Roman gasps, throwing his head back, flinging his hand against his forehead. </p>
<p>"No," he says. </p>
<p>"Yep," says Virgil. </p>
<p>"We'll be old!" cries Roman. </p>
<p>"Uh-huh," says Virgil. </p>
<p>"Ancient!" </p>
<p>"Totally." </p>
<p>"And our skin will wrinkle up like two giant prunes and our hair will dry and crack off and our eyes will bug out and our breath will turn sour and we'll shake with every step!" </p>
<p>"Hi, Remus." </p>
<p>The other Prince twin plops himself down beside Virgil, peering at the open page. Virgil snatches it away and slams it shut. </p>
<p>"Aw," Remus pouts. "I wanna see your juicy secrets. Lemme see your juicy secrets!" </p>
<p>"For the love of god, <em> please </em> stop using the word juicy." </p>
<p>"Juicy, juicy, juicy, juicy—" </p>
<p>Virgil shoves Remus. Harder than he means to. Remus flails his arms and falls off the bench, and Roman flinches, but Remus is giggling by the time he hits the ground. </p>
<p>"Juicy, juicy, juicy," he crows, and Virgil rolls his eyes for probably the seventh time in as many minutes. </p>
<p>The twins are his best friends, which can be unfortunate. Patton is his other best friend and he at least is less obnoxious, but Patton's busy helping Janus with costumes—and sure, he's good at sewing, and sure, Roman's got a big part in the spring musical, so of course Patton has a vested interest, but Virgil's not dumb. He's seen the way Patton looks at Janus. </p>
<p>(Sometimes he wishes Roman would look that way at him. He tries not to let himself hope too much.) </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Patton's a Picani and the twins are Princes, which are close enough alphabetically that they have the same homeroom, which is in fact how they first met. </p>
<p>Patton has soft brown skin and dark curls that frame his face and big, round wire glasses. Patton has freckled cheeks and freckled elbows and deep brown eyes that seem to hold every emotion in the world. Patton has good enough parents that he can wear short sleeves in the summer—good enough parents that he's never hungry—good enough parents that Virgil's bruises make him cry. </p>
<p>At 8:26 the next morning, sixteen minutes after the tardy bell rings, Virgil gets two texts from Patton. The first makes him nervous, and the second makes him scared. </p>
<p>
  <em> roman isnt here  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> remus wont talk to me. he hasnt said a word all morning  </em>
</p>
<p>Roman hasn't missed school in three years. Remus never, ever shuts up. There's only one explanation, really. </p>
<p>Virgil thinks of Roman—shining-armor-clad Roman, with his pretty copper skin and his pearly white smile—probably bruised and maybe bleeding, too hurt to drag himself out of bed. He thinks of Remus, red-eyed and silent, forced to keep the world's worst secret. </p>
<p>He raises his hand. "Uh, can I go to the bathroom?" </p>
<p>His homeroom teacher nods her permission and Virgil is gone, darting out the door and down the hall. </p>
<p>
  <em> meet me in the D hall bathroom  </em>
</p>
<p>Three minutes later finds Virgil leaning back against the inside of a bathroom stall, Patton tucked into his arms, crying into the fabric of his hoodie. Patton cries a lot. </p>
<p>"Roman came to s-school after they <em> broke his arm," </em> Patton says, and Virgil remembers that. Remembers how he kept it secret all day long, how it didn't come out until Patton tried to hug him and he <em> yelped. </em> </p>
<p>(Patton cried that day, too.) </p>
<p>"I asked Remus how—how bad it was," Patton says, voice shaking, "and he just. He just <em> looked </em> at me. And he has bruises on his, his collar—he turned and his shirt moved, and I saw them, and, and he wouldn't say <em> anything— </em> Virgil, I can't <em> take this </em> anymore." </p>
<p>Virgil shuts his eyes and thinks about hiding in the closet in the dark, the sound a fist makes when it hits a person, Janus begging <em> please I'm sorry. </em> He thinks about all the ways Roman could be hurt, what the hell must've happened to keep him home from school if a <em> broken arm </em> isn't bad enough. He thinks Remus must have had to listen—Remus probably always has to listen. </p>
<p>(Virgil always does. Sometimes he thinks he'd rather be the one with bruises. Sometimes he wishes Janus would stop getting in the way like a goddamn martyr, because doesn't he know it's breaking Virgil into little pieces?) </p>
<p>"He's <em> hurt," </em> Patton says. "And we can't do <em> anything."  </em></p>
<p>Virgil thinks of plan eleven, scribbled into his tattered notebook. </p>
<p>He hugs Patton tighter, and he wonders what it means, what it says about the rest of them, that Patton is the only one who cries anymore. </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Logan Sanders wouldn't know subtlety if it hit him in the face. Which is a weird turn of phrase, because hitting-in-the-face is in no way subtle, but the fact stands. </p>
<p>"Roman's parents are abusive," Logan said to Janus two years ago, curled up in his favorite chair, the two of them alone in Logan's room in the middle of the night. </p>
<p>Logan has been Janus's best friend for forever. They both like to read. They both like to write. They both have an appreciation for theatre, though Logan isn't fond of acting, nor of the story a show tells; he doesn't watch plays the way most people do. </p>
<p>Logan writes light cues and takes music theory classes and researches every little detail of every little prop. He studies the history of dance and what color does to people's brains; he spends hours reading books on how tall tales evoke emotion. Sometimes Janus thinks that Logan uses theatre to understand things about people that most people just <em> know.  </em></p>
<p>"Roman's parents are abusive," Logan said two years ago. "Like yours." </p>
<p>Janus had flinched. Had tried to deny it. "My parents aren't—" </p>
<p>But Logan cut him off. "They call you names. They deprive you of food. They hit you," he said. </p>
<p>"Not that often," Janus had protested, an admission in and of itself. </p>
<p>In the months and months since then, Janus has slept at Logan's house just as often as his own, has dragged Virgil over to stay the night when things are really bad, has called Logan's parents "Mom" and "Dad" by mistake more times than he can count. And Janus distrusts most adults on principle, but Logan's parents aren't like most adults. </p>
<p>He still hides his bruises, because when they see, their eyes become impossibly sad, and they don't cry like Patton does but they do go very quiet. </p>
<p>They've called CPS, of course. Duh. Obviously. And they've taken pictures on the rare occasion Janus's bruises peek out past his sleeves, and they've tried just about everything short of kidnapping, and CPS has done jack shit but make things worse. </p>
<p>Janus is as stuck as Roman and Remus are. </p>
<p>(At least he manages to keep Virgil safe.) </p>
<p>Anyway, he's known about the twins for a lot longer than Logan has. They're his little brother's best friends. Roman has starred in school musicals since like fifth grade; he's a better liar even than Janus, but there isn't much that can explain away the way he flinches. Most people buy whatever excuse he offers, because it's <em> Roman, </em> sweet little Roman, stellar and smart, their golden boy. Hard to imagine his picture-perfect family hiding anything, right? </p>
<p>Janus figured it out because he lives the same double life, and he knows what it looks like. Logan figured it out because he knows Janus. </p>
<p>But neither one has done a thing about it but watch, because no one <em> ever </em> does anything about it, because there's nothing to do. Some kids get good parents and some kids don't and that's the way of the world as Janus knows it. </p>
<p>The twins hang around with Virgil most days—Virgil and his notebook full of plans that won't work—and Janus and Logan stick close together, and Patton flutters along the edge of their circle, offering hugs and soft words and homemade cookies, begging them to spend his love, aching to be needed. They're six people six ways broken, but at least they aren't alone. </p>
<p>Then Roman misses school. </p>
<p>And everyone in the world just ignores it, unbothered or maybe annoyed, friends-but-not-really-friends offering speculation that might spiral into a rumor, teachers marking him absent with a <em> tsk. </em> And they all move on a moment after they've noticed, except for five children who know that Roman hasn't missed school in three years. </p>
<p>He won't answer any texts, and Remus won't even <em> talk— </em>and the school day ends, and the minutes tick by, and one by one the cast and crew of the spring musical trickles into the auditorium, and Roman doesn't show up. And fifteen minutes later rehearsal begins, and Janus and Logan slip backstage, hands locked, and Roman doesn't show up. Janus's body has gone cold all over. </p>
<p>Rehearsal goes on and he sits in the green room and sews costumes, Logan chattering at his side, and Roman doesn't show up. </p>
<p>Roman isn't <em> here— </em>the place in the world that means everything to him—and it really hits Janus, for the first time all day, that Roman is probably hurt worse than he's ever been. And he tries so hard not to think of what that means, because Roman is just Virgil's age—just fourteen and small and impossibly bright. And this isn't— </p>
<p>This isn't fucking fair. </p>
<p>He pokes the needle through the fabric, pulls black thread through blue fibers. Cinderella's apron. Roman was being an idiot last week and ripped it, and Janus is in charge of costumes, so. Here he is. Patching it up. </p>
<p>He thinks of Roman's smile, the way he roared with laughter at something his brother said. Remembers the way he favored one leg but didn't let it stop him, hiding his injury with the sheer force of his enthusiasm, leaping onto the table and spinning Rose Porter in a circle till she stumbled right off, catching her by the costume just moments before disaster. </p>
<p>He remembers Patton laughing, too, his softness such stark contrast to Roman's harsh brilliance. Remembers how Patton curled up next to Janus, threading brown fingers through yellow gloves. </p>
<p>("I think Patton has a crush on you," Virgil said to him three months ago, and Janus knew that already because he isn't blind, but it still made his heart flutter to hear the words.) </p>
<p>"I can't take this anymore," he says, hardly more than a whisper. He drops his swath of fabric, lets his face fall into his gloved hands. </p>
<p>Logan goes quiet. </p>
<p>He squeezes his eyes shut, wills the tears not to spill. He heard the sound of shuffling fabric as Logan inches closer, and then a hand rests on his leg. </p>
<p>"It isn't <em> fair," </em> Janus hisses. "We can't do anything—if we do it'll just make this <em> worse." </em> And god, Roman would forgive him if he made this worse, but Remus sure as hell wouldn't. </p>
<p>(Janus wouldn't forgive himself.) </p>
<p>"It isn't fair," Janus repeats, and he's starting to sound like a child—but that's the thing, isn't it? They're all just children. </p>
<p>And Logan—steady, certain Logan—wraps him up in uncertain arms and says with an unsteady voice, "That's how I always feel about you." </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>That night Virgil lies awake and breathes in the blessed silence. Their parents aren't angry tonight. Janus is sound asleep. Safe. </p>
<p>Virgil's mind is far away, dancing around the Prince twins and their broken home. Roman still hasn't answered any texts. </p>
<p>He wonders if they'll hurt him worse tonight. If he'll come to school tomorrow. </p>
<p>He wonders if Remus put Roman back together the same way Virgil always does for Janus—with soft words and soft hands and false promises, antiseptic and arnica cream. He has trouble imagining Remus being soft. Then again, Virgil isn't soft most of the time, either. </p>
<p>It's different, in the aftermath of something like that. </p>
<p>He lies awake for a long time and he thinks of plan eleven. He told Roman and Remus about it, yesterday at lunch. Roman thought it sounded boring, but Roman is dead-set on things like lottery tickets and contest prizes, so. Yeah. </p>
<p>His eyes fall shut. He prays he'll see Roman tomorrow. </p>
<p>And then his phone buzzes and Virgil blinks his eyes open to blue light. He squints, fumbles to grab it off of his nightstand. </p>
<p>It's a text. From Remus. </p>
<p><em> outside </em> </p>
<p>Virgil blinks once. He blinks twice. He rubs his eyes and blinks again, because—what the hell? </p>
<p>Another buzz. Another text. </p>
<p><em> open the window </em> </p>
<p>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i live for comments...... if you commented on day one, thank you so much 💗❤ i love you guys!! </p>
<p>hope you enjoyed installment number two, and i'll see you tomorrow...... for MORE PAIN</p></blockquote></div></div>
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